


from something else

by EssayOfThoughts



Series: MCU Maximoff Oneshots [162]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 06:55:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15455769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EssayOfThoughts/pseuds/EssayOfThoughts
Summary: All life has beginning, all life has end. A looping piece of eternity, an ouroboros biting its tail. Life starts, life ceases and all things come, one way or another, from something else.Vision does not. No one truly knows where he came from.





	from something else

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RedSummerRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedSummerRose/gifts).



> This was written for an ask game over on my tumblr, you can see that over [Here](http://essayofthoughts.tumblr.com/post/175856958480/wandavision-high-fantasy-au-d).

**i.  
** There exist in the world things which should not be. All life has beginning, all life has end. A looping piece of eternity, an ouroboros biting its tail. Life starts, life ceases and all things come, one way or another, from something else. **  
**

Vision does not. No one truly knows where he came from.

 

* * *

 

 **ii.  
** They are offered no home. They are orphans, young and lost, wandering. Without parents to claim them, without family, without clan, they are creatures with no beginning, without a foreseeable end - they are no part of the eternal ouroboros. 

The twins are shunted here and there. Without record of their parents no one will claim them, without promise of their humanity and their life no one will risk taking counterfeit life into their home. Instead, they shunt them to the edges and hope that they will pitch over into death and resume the cycle.

The twins do not. Instead, they persevere.

 

* * *

 

 **iii.**  
“Maybe I am a monster,” he says. “I don’t think I would know if I were one. But I do know that I do not wish to be.”

People still shy from him. They look at his flesh, his metal, his gemstone eyes, hear the ticking of the clockwork that makes up his heart and refuse to call him a living thing. He does not begrudge them this. They do not know how he lives, that he lives, that he  _feels._  They cannot reach inside his head and feel as he does. 

He travels on. Through village and forest, city and mountain. He buys passage on a boat and when they pitch him overboard in storm-fear he walks across the oceanfloor until he reaches shore. 

He breathes in air, feels his clockwork heart rusting and slowing, and seeks those few of science who might know how to help him.

 

* * *

 

 **iv.**  
“I  _call_ ,” Wanda says and shadows fall around them. From her hands light dances out. The children before her sit in awe, at the back of the crowd the adults watch with wary eyes. The twins narrate a story, Wanda’s magic painting it out before them. When they are done they are given a few coins, a little food.

Everyone knows that magic is born of life, and will not turn away that which they know to be living.

 

* * *

 

 **v.**  
“The cycle,” a man says as the twins walk away. The lane is long and shadowed, the sun is slowly setting by the horizon. “Why does it matter so much? Why does mystery make everyone fear?”

Pietro’s magic is already hovering at his skin, ready to pull his sister from the stranger, leaning against a tree. In the shadows, the stranger’s eyes seem to glint.

“Because everything must come from something,” Wanda says. “When you do not know where something comes from, what shaped it, you cannot know if it means help or harm.”

The stranger’s head tilts, and though Pietro reaches for his sister, Wanda’s hand holds him back. 

“Arguably,” the stranger says. “You cannot know that even if you do know where something came from and what shaped it.”

Wanda smiles. “Yes. But that does not stop them fearing.”

“May I join you?” the stranger asks, stepping out of the shadows. Pietro’s hand tightens around his sister’s arm at the stranger’s skin and metal and gemstone eyes. “They find me too strange when I travel alone.”

Wanda’s hand rests gently on her brother’s. “Do you know where you came from?”

“No,” the stranger says. “Just my name.”

“Like us,” Wanda says. “I’m Wanda. What’s your name?”

“Wanda,” the stranger says, and smiles. “I am Vision.”

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments!


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